


Marian Hude

by Geonn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dystopia, F/F, F/M, Future, Lesbian Character of Color, Literary References & Allusions, Musicians, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence, Trans Male Character, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the ruins of a forgotten city, a woman recreates the Robin Hood mythos to help those in need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Legends and myths are all invented. They are created things that help us understand who we are, and give us a vision of who we should strive to be. Stories offer us glimpses of the heroes we hope to save us and grants form to our darkest fears and dread. Sometimes the stories are based in truth, penned about a hero who actually lived and died for a cause. More often, the stories begin as a well-intentioned lie, parables intended to embolden the spirits of the disenfranchised. 

Stories are immortal. People die, ideologies shift, history is rewritten, and books burn. But people will still tell stories. It’s one thing that can’t be taken away or quashed. As long as a person has a voice and someone else to hear, stories will continue. My mother told me the stories because the books she learned them from were long gone. “We did it to ourselves first,” she said wistfully as she held me on her against her chest. We would sit on the fire escape because, from there, we could see the sunset. Sort of. She said, “We started making everything digital. We used to say that once something was on the internet, it was forever. We never thought about how easy it was to just take away access.”

After the internet was shuttered, and after the fires and devastation that claimed libraries as indiscriminately as they destroyed everything else, after paper became a rarity and books were considered rare treasures, the stories were still remembered. My mother was an English professor in her past life, so I learned all about Dawn Kihotey and Robin Son’crusoe sitting on that rickety balcony. They were daring women and strong, adventurous and powerful. They faced down all odds because it was the right thing to do. When she was finished with the story, when she tucked me into bed at night, she would kiss my forehead and whisper, “We need new stories, little girl. They could be about you.”

“Or you, mama,” I would reply, but she would only smile sadly and stroke my hair. I’d watch her as she left my room, sitting on the cart she used to ferry herself around. I’d never known her with legs so the chair didn’t seem odd to me. It was just how mama got around. But I knew it weighed heavy on her mind. It made her slower, which could be deadly. So she remained in our apartment, barricaded and safe, while I went out to get our food and whatever supplies we might need.

That was how I learned how to navigate the straightaways and the heights. Most people were stuck in a linear mind, following paths laid down to get from Point A to Point B. I figured there were easier ways, faster ways, that could lessen the chance of getting caught. I became quicker than the stray cats that lived in the alleys. I was usually quieter than them, too. By the time I was twenty, I had a small group of people who relied on me and who I trained to take care of themselves. We were a pack, 

Mama had named me after a character from one of her stories. I was Marian, after Maid Marian, the love interest of Sir Robin. Our surname was Hude, which sounded like ‘hewed,’ but it was close enough for my ears. When we were out on runs, our group used code names for each other. I was their leader, mostly since I was the one who did most of the training, so I got to pick the names. Naturally I chose from the Maid Marian legend. 

The day Mama died isn’t a day I talk about.

Afterward, I transformed our little squalid apartment into a fortress. My ladies and I turned the kitchen into barracks, while I was bequeathed the mistress suite. I took some of Mama’s motorized chairs and adjusted them so I could hide my legs under the seat, essentially straddling the mechanisms that moved it forward, in order to mimic a homeless and wounded veteran on the streets. We never knew when something like that might come in handy, so we didn’t waste the opportunities that presented themselves.

For several years, we were a merry band of thieves, just like the merry men in the Marian stories. Supplies were transpo’d through the city in armored vehicles that were labeled as Essential Need. The majority of citizens thought it quite odd that most people who qualified for Essential Need deliveries were also those wealthy enough to pay for it. Mama and I had never qualified, or never filled an envelope with the right amount of money, to get a box on the first of the month, and no one else we knew had, either.

Security for the transpo kept their eyes on the street, heavily armed and their beetle-helmet heads sweeping from side to side to prevent anyone from rushing the tanks. They didn’t watch from above because no one would be stupid enough to throw themselves four stories from the top of the nearest buildings. They were right. It would be suicide if someone tried diving onto the trucks. But for someone who knew the vertical routes of the city, who could ascend as easily as other people moved forward, it proved to be a small challenge to get on top of the tanks. Red Jill found a way into the hatch without breaking anything, we got in, and we unloaded what we needed. Nasir had a hook and pulley system that lifted our take off the vehicle and brought it up into the aeries we called home. After that, we divvied everything up into smaller packages and distributed it to those who needed it the most.

We kept it up for years, altering our methods once the government got wind of us. Our victories weren’t always flawless. We lost some women, and we gained a few fighters. We never turned our backs on those we lost. I was told that I was a good leader, and I believed it enough. Some of my women had men who were kept separate from what we did; they would only try to protect us and in doing so ruin what we had built. Some of my girls found comfort with each other, and I was jealous. Every time, of both partners. I never took the initiative, I never stepped over the line and propositioned one of the girls who looked up to me as her leader.

And then one day I met Robin. 

It was a supply run, “a regular day, with nothing out of the ordinary.” Mama always started the most exciting stories that way: nothing amiss, because the life-changing things so often slam into us from out of the blue. Nasir was in place, and Red Jill was set to follow me down onto the transpo. I was dressed in my usual outfit: tight trousers tucked into knee-high leather boots, and a shirt with string down the center so I could tighten it to my body shape. The rule was no loose clothing that could get caught on the protuberances of the tank. The only exception was my hood, which shielded by face from easy view. Nasir and Red Jill both had masks to cover the lower half of their face, but I was the Hude. I had a reputation to think about, after all.

Much had found the schedule for today’s transpo, so we were in position an hour earlier to examine the field of battle. The roads were mostly barren except for government vehicles. Gasoline was rare and expensive, and cars were a luxury no one could afford any longer. Those who kept their vehicles more often than not ended up living out of them. I saw a few abandoned husks, metallic monuments of a time gone by fossilized on the curbs amid piles of garbage and the rubble from collapsed buildings.

I pointed out a few angles of potential attack and Jill countered with reasons they wouldn’t work. We found a nice compromise and hunkered down to wait. The tanks arrived on schedule, preceded by a ground-shaking rumble that shook dust from the buildings around us. The advance guard rolled through; an armored man who looked like a turtle seated atop the small car with a rotating rifle that could pick us off in mid-air. That was relatively new, added specifically in response to my intervention, and I felt proud to provide the turtle gunman with a job.

The forward vehicle sent the all-clear. Jill straightened and stepped to the edge of the roof, hooking a karabiner to the edge before she casually stepped off into empty air. She fell in a predictable arc, tapped her foot against the brick wall, and swung out toward the tank. She grabbed hold and secured herself to the vehicle before I followed her. I zip-lined down the rope she had provided and landed a few feet to her left. She was already ascending to the hatch.

Once I was certain the turtle hadn’t spotted us, I detached the line and let it fall slack. I scrambled up behind Jill, crouching next to the hatch as she worked the code. She grabbed the handle, lifted, and her arm refused to follow-through on the motion. She stared down at the door as if it had betrayed her. I stared at the closed hatch, looked at Jill, and understood that the turtle man wasn’t the only new security measure they’d added.

“Shit.”

“Just relax,” I told her. “You have time.”

I was immediately made a liar. The turtle man was apparently overeager to do his job, and it was the only thing that saved our lives. He began shooting far too early, bullets chipping away at the brick wall of the apartment building we were driving past. Glass shattered as he passed a window, and I grabbed Jill to pull her down. 

“Halt! Your illegal attempt to access this humanitarian aid vehicle has been marked, and you are hereby placed under arrest by order of--”

I ignored the rest of what he said. Jill rolled across the top of the tank and dropped down out of sight and separated from the gun by the body of the tank. I followed suit and slid down onto the back bumper. The turtle man stopped firing as soon as we were out of sight. My heart was pounding wildly as I searched for an option. Nasir was still two blocks away, the distance the tank would have traveled while we were inside gathering today’s haul. Everyone else was back at the camp waiting for us. 

Jill banged against her side of the tank. “You make it?”

“Yeah. You?”

“All in one piece. Damn sons of bitches. I should have anticipated them changing the code. It was a stupid oversight on my part. It’s my fault, Marian.”

“We’re not interested in blame,” I told her. “Right now you could put that big brain of yours to work on how we’ll get out of this.”

Jill was silent for a long moment, and then finally said, “You won’t like it.”

“Oh, boy. Loss of life?”

“Minimal. I hope.”

I sighed. “Okay. You have my reluctant blessing.”

I heard Jill scrambling back on top of the tank. We were nearing the rendezvous point, and I tried to come up with a way to signal Nasir that everything had gone tits-up. 

The tank lurched violently and I flattened against its side, scrambling for handholds as it veered wildly to the right. The turtle man began firing again, but this time it seemed half-hearted. The front of the tank began crashing through the side-of-the-road debris, and I flinched at every car-sized speed bump we rattled past, over, through. The tank went up suddenly, as if it was climbing a mountain, and I dangled from its backside like a tick on a rowdy dog. My boots swung free and my fingers were white from holding on. I heard turtle man screaming at the driver of the advance car to stop as we finally crashed into something sturdy enough to stop our forward progress.

I stepped off onto solid ground and cautiously peeked around the side of the tank to check on turtle man and the advance car. It had stopped, and several armored people were climbing out onto the street. Armed. Armored. Pissed off. Not a good combination. Jill and I weren’t armed, never were, but we had makeshift armor underneath our clothes. They were mostly there for our own mental well-being; I doubted it would actually stop a bullet.

Jill appeared next to me and I glared at her. “Minimal? You could have killed all of us!”

“Better than taking one of their bullets.”

“I hate you,” I said.

“Yes, you do. What’s the plan?”

I looked around. We had crashed into an abandoned storefront that had once been a clothing store. “Can we make it through there?”

“We’d have to knock through some barricades. Not enough time.”

And we were losing time each second we stood there. The guards were most likely surrounding us at that very moment. I was about to suggest an idiotic plan when something heavy crashed out in the street. One of the guards shouted and gunfire erupted. But it wasn’t aimed at us. I risked a glance and saw they were aiming at the rooftops, their backs currently turned away from us. I saw a flash on the rooftop as Nasir tossed something else over and caused the guards to scatter before it hit. She must have been alerted by the gunfire and raced to our aid. Good woman, that Nasir.

I patted Jill’s shoulder and motioned for her to run toward an alley I had spotted earlier during my wild ride. I heard her take off and, when I was sure she was safe, I followed. I was nearly to the alley, almost at the first evidence of our madcap tank ride, when I spotted the body. She was lying between two cars, her arms curled up over her head for the meager protection it would provide. I didn’t know if she had been hit by the tank or debris, but she had fallen so that her head hit the curb. I could see blood mixed in with her blonde hair, but she was groaning loud enough for me to hear over the guards’ renewed shouting. 

Jill was at the mouth of the alley. “Marian! Hurry!”

I couldn’t leave the woman there. She would be taken into custody, harassed and tortured for information about us. When - and if - the officials discovered she didn’t know anything, she would be locked up for life... if she was lucky. All because she had been on the wrong street at the wrong time. All because of what I’d done. 

I didn’t stop to think. I ran to her, scooped her up in my arms, and ran. The guards were firing in our direction again, having discovered Nasir was just a distraction, and I ducked around the corner without becoming perforated. There was a rumor that the guards purposely missed us, wanting instead to take us alive for the interrogation. We had no intention of testing that theory any time soon, but at least I was safe for the time being.

Jill looked at the woman in my arms. “Who is that?”

“Collateral damage, if we leave her here.”

Jill didn’t argue. The woman was light enough, and after years of swinging, jumping, and climbing, my arms were strong enough to carry her as I ran. At one point I think she woke, because I saw her eyelids flutter, but when I looked down to tell her everything would be all right they had drifted shut again. The guards gave chase, but we knew the streets infinitely better than they did. 

We ran, our mission a failure, and we didn’t look back.


	2. Chapter 2

In the years since Mama died, we’d transformed the apartment into a full-fledged sanctuary. We didn’t force out any of our neighbors; they simply left in search of some vague hope and we took over their empty homes. Walls were knocked down and we joined the rooms together into a massive warren. Once we had the entire floor to ourselves, we blocked off the elevator so it would bypass us entirely; we had other methods of getting inside.

We each had our little oases inside the fortress. Nasir, Jill, and I entered through the window in the community room, and I deposited our guest on the same worn-out couch where I had vague memories of watching cartoons. She still hadn’t woken up, so I tended to her wounds while Nasir went to find the Prioress. I was kneeling by the couch with Jill looming over me as we waited.

“Why did you save her?”

“We’re the reason she got hurt,” I said. “Couldn’t just leave her for the goon squad to pick up. She’d have died.”

Jill crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “We’re already going to be rationing as it is. You want to add another mouth to feed, we might have problems.”

“Then we’ll work them out.” I turned to look up at her. “You really would rather sacrifice a stranger to ensure you got a full meal tonight?”

She glared at me with her baby blue eyes, dark hair falling across her forehead like a folded wing. “I’m saying there’s a point where we can’t afford to be altruistic. You try to save everyone, you’re bound to lose.”

I didn’t argue the point with her. Jill was a thief by necessity, a lock whisperer who rarely found a locked door she couldn’t tumble. She started thieving at an early age when her parents went out for supplies and left her to watch over her sister. Eight days later Jill gave up on their return and took her sister somewhere safer. She learned how to get into closed rooms for food, clothes, shoes, whatever her sister might have needed. Her own needs came second. I met her when she was trying to rob us, and she became ensnared in our security system. I recognized her skills and offered her a place to stay rather than a punishment. She was on probation, of course, but she’d long ago proven her loyalty.

When our paths crossed, Jill was on her own. She never told us what happened to her sister, never even told us her name, and we were smart enough not to ask for any details. It was obvious that whatever happened led Jill to be rather closed off. She was protective of our group, our family unit, and anyone else was a potential danger that didn’t deserve trust. 

Nasir returned with the Prioress in tow, and I stepped back with Jill so she could tend to the patient. Prioress Tuck, we called her, in keeping with my theme of assigning nicknames from the legend. Red haired, with a wide mouth and big expressive eyes, she had a way of putting people instantly at ease. In her previous life she was a pastor but these days she wore the salvaged clerical clothing of a Catholic priest. She balked at first, explained why it was blasphemous and wrong, but in the end she put it on. She didn’t talk about God anymore; she was more of a psychiatrist and physician than a holy woman. But Robin Hood didn’t know any doctors, so she was Prioress Tuck.

“She’s hurt,” Prioress said, “but nothing permanent or particularly life-threatening. Nasir, my bag.” 

“Let me know if you need anything,” I said. 

“Right now, just some privacy.”

I nodded. “Right. Nas, Jill. Let’s go tell the others the bad news.”

Prioress looked at me again. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I noticed a distinct lack of supplies when I came in.”

“We can’t win them all. Who is here?”

“All of us.” She turned back to her patient and got to work. “Much and Dawn just got back from their own run.”

I let myself hope. “Successful?”

“More than you three were.”

I grimaced. “No need to rub it in, Prioress.”

“Sorry. Go. I’ll glean what I need to know after I take care of this poor girl.”

“Thanks.” I turned and went down the main hall with Nasir and Jill in tow. They branched off into other corridors to get the ladies from other sections of our home. We had created a massive nest that even those of us who had lived here for years sometimes had difficulty navigating. I stepped through an archway into what had once been somebody’s kitchen but now served as Little Dawn’s home. It was always ten degrees hotter than the rest of the home because she liked to turn the stove on to create a tropical bubble for herself.

Dawn was seated cross-legged on her bedroll, stripped down to a tank top, her hands resting on her knees. I didn’t know how long she’d been home, but it was long enough that her chest and the wiry muscles of her arms were beaded with sweat. She was a good six inches taller than me, broad in the shoulders, dark-haired and dark-eyed. The slope of her nose was interrupted by ridges that indicated it had been broken and re-set many times, though only twice since we met her. 

“We had a bad run,” I said as I leaned against the wall next to her door. Sweat was already pooling in the small of my back, and I loosened the cord holding my shirt tight to my body so the pores could breathe a little. “Wrecked a tank and didn’t get the food.”

She lifted one thick eyebrow and unfolded her limbs to stand up. “Well, at least you wrecked the tank. Maybe someone besides the government will get their hands on it.”

“Could be. I’m going to break the news to everyone else at once. Clean up and meet us in the council room. Five minutes.”

Dawn nodded and began wiping away the sweat. I watched her for a lingering moment, mesmerized by the sweep of cloth across heat-reddened skin, then forced myself to turn and leave. I swore I would never become physically involved with anyone in my crew, but Dawn was the one that tempted me more than the others. We’d gotten close once, groping one another and kissing a bit in the dark. We mutually decided at the precipice of going too far that it would set a dangerous precedent. It was the right decision. But that didn’t mean she was barred from the occasional nocturnal fantasy.

Nasir had retrieved Alana Dale, and they were waiting in the council room when I arrived. Alana was the only person in our group who had almost retained her true name. We all knew her, recognized her face from countless concert posters and album covers, but Dawn convinced me that everyone needed to be on equal footing. Though she might have been a celebrity at one time, now she was scrounging to survive just like everyone else. Her musical talents meant that the legend had a ready-made identity for her, the minstrel, and she accepted the persona wholeheartedly. She disguised herself in harlequin makeup, white powder on her face and her blonde hair straightened and dyed crimson red. I was relieved to see that she had a red diamond painted over her right eye today; red suit meant she was in a good mood. I hoped it survived what I had to say.

Dawn arrived moments before Jill came back in with Much. Much Miller, the youngest and most recent addition to our little family, was dressed in her street attire of a man’s shirt with tattered jeans. When Much was dressed like a man I tried to refer to him in the masculine. I slipped sometimes but he understood it was difficult when he sometimes moved across the gender line depending on who was around to see him. He and Jill took seats on the opposite side of the room from me. 

Their eyes were all on me. I crossed my arms and said, “Well, I suppose we might as well start.”

“Where’s Prioress?” Nasir asked.

“She’s tending to someone in the other room.”

I saw the information pass over all their faces. Everyone was present and unharmed, which meant Prioress was tending to a stranger. Postures straightened as the group realized this wouldn’t be any ordinary update. I took a breath and looked down at my boots to gather my thoughts before I spoke.

“Today’s job didn’t exactly go to plan...”


	3. Chapter 3

Jill and I spent the next half hour telling everyone else about what had gone wrong and discussing how we would deal with the sudden dearth of supplies. We had people counting on us, and we also had to feed ourselves until the next shipment came through. Dawn convinced us it wasn’t a world-ending crisis; we were good at rationing ourselves even when the pantry was full so we had a bit of a surplus to get us through hard times such as these. Nasir suggested taking Jill on a recon mission to the wreckage in order to examine the new security system so we wouldn’t be caught flatfooted next time.

Jill said, “We could bypass all these upgrades and countermeasures if we just blow the damn hatches.”

I shook my head. “If we start using destructive tactics, we run the risk of them changing their methods entirely. It might be enough for them to justify the cost of air-lifting supplies.”

Jill shrugged and gave up her argument for the time being. “Nasir, Jill. The recon mission sounds like a good idea. They usually don’t get around to moving their trash right away. But be careful. If the supplies haven’t been moved yet, it’ll be heavily guarded.”

“We’ll be careful, boss,” Nasir promised.

I dismissed them, then traveled back to the main room. It was crowded with furniture we’d found while scouting, abandoned or otherwise left available. The couch with our mysterious new guest was angled to face a row of armchairs, and behind them other broken chairs and couches were draped in sheets and shadows like conspiring thieves. The Prioress had cleaned and bandaged the stranger’s wounds when I arrived and sat on the couch behind her.

“How’s it look?”

“She’ll pull through. She’s tough.”

“You can tell that while she’s unconscious?”

Prioress pulled down the collar of the girl’s shirt to reveal a crosshatch of scars on her shoulder. “She’s been hurt before. Badly. She made it through that, this shouldn’t be any problem for her.” She lifted the shirt back up. “So what did I miss in the briefing?”

I told her as she gathered her supplies and returned them to her bag. 

When I’d finished she said, “Sounds like Jill screwed up.”

“No. I screwed up.”

“Why? Jill was the one who couldn’t get the hatch open. She should have anticipated they would change the code.”

I grimaced. “There’s no way she could have known.”

“Exactly. And you brought her along because she’s the expert. So if she couldn’t have known, there’s no way you could have prepared for it. I could tell from the way you told the story that you held yourself accountable. You couldn’t plan anything that happened, but when it went south, you got our people out safely. You even got an innocent bystander to safety. You did everything right, so stop beating yourself up about it.”

I hadn’t realized what I was doing, or that I needed to hear what she’d said, but it took a weight off of my shoulders. “Thank you, Prioress.” 

She nodded and stood up. “Let me know if you need to talk more. I’ll see if anyone can sit with her in case she wakes up.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “I’ll watch her. I was the one who brought her in, so I feel responsible.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need someone to take a shift.” She brushed my shoulder as she walked out of the room, and I settled in to watch over our newest foundling.

#

Prioress Tuck left Marian in the main room with her patient, head down as she entered the hall so she jumped when she nearly collided with someone going the opposite direction. She took a step back and lifted her eyes, already voicing an apology when she realized it was Much. His hands were on her arms to steady her, his limp hair falling into his gorgeous blue eyes. The Prioress was suddenly at a loss for words. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Should’ve been watching where I was going. You okay?”

Damn the man’s voice. Prioress was grateful the hallway was dark so Much would be less likely to see her blush. She knew that the man had been born female, and that he was still physically female, but he presented himself as a male the majority of the time. Only on rare occasions, and only in their private home, did he ever wear women’s clothing. It was enough for Prioress to see him only as male despite the occasional physical that gave away the truth. He was devastatingly handsome, with a strong jaw and those eyes... he was exactly the sort of man she would have pursued before Everything Happened.

“Pry?” Much asked, and her blush deepened at his nickname for her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Thank you, Much.” She brushed the hair away from her forehead and let her hand linger, trailing along her neck. She chided herself for the body language she was presenting but she couldn’t help herself; Much left her more defenseless than she was comfortable admitting. “I’m just thinking about the patient.”

“I was just coming to see if Marian needed help with her.”

“I think she’ll call us if she needs help.” She considered making up a lie to get away from Much as quickly as possible, but her need for information outweighed her nerves. “Would you mind walking to my office with me? There’s something I would like to discuss.”

“Sure.” He turned and followed her down the narrow hall. “Is the woman going to be okay?”

Prioress nodded. “She took a beating, but I think she’ll recover well.” They reached an intersection and she checked to make sure no one was approaching from another direction. There was more room there, so she stopped and turned to face Much. “How are the others handling this mission failure?”

Much crossed his arms and shrugged. “As badly as you might imagine. No one likes hearing we’re going to be short on food. Are you looking for a particular reaction?”

“Marian is blaming herself for it. I told her she was being too hard on herself, but if anyone is actually thinking that--”

“Not at all. In fact, Jill is beating herself up for it. She and Nasir are gearing up to head back to the wreck after dark so they can get a look. See if they can salvage anything. No one said anything about Marian, but we were all trying to calm Jill down so she won’t run headlong into something dangerous.”

Prioress said, “Should I speak with her?”

“It wouldn’t hurt. You have a way of making people feel comfortable.” He reached out and lightly touched Prioress’ arm, and she had to fight not to pull away. It wasn’t that she rejected the touch; she was acutely aware of the potential to like it too much. She hugged herself and smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Much said softly. He stepped back, putting a little more room between them. “Supper might not be all that much tonight, but it’ll still be served at the same time. Will I see you there?”

“Sure. Of course.”

Much smiled. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight.” He turned and walked down an adjacent corridor, and Prioress watched until he was out of sight. She let out a breath and ran her hands through her hair before she went to her bedroom. She placed her bag on the table and shut the door, resting her hand on the wood before she let go of the tension that had gripped her since running into Much. She tended to dress down for the evening meal so the others wouldn’t feel as if they had to defer to her religion, so she went to the closet and began undressing.

Her feelings toward Much had evolved so slowly she didn’t know when they had been mild enough to quash. Physically, he was female and her feelings were wrong. She didn’t preach when Marian or Jill spoke of their female conquests, ones made solo or those that had been shared. She didn’t care that Dawn was promiscuous and vocal about her preferences. The world had become something horribly dark and twisted in the past few years, and sex was the one pleasure that managed to escape unscathed. She wasn’t going to take that away from them with antiquated ideas.

But accepting the homosexuality of others was much different than partaking in it herself. Regardless of Much’s presentation, once they made it to the bed, Prioress knew that she would be lying with a woman. The thought didn’t disgust her in a way it once might have, and that semi-acceptance was what frightened her. She could see herself taking Much to bed, and she didn’t want to accept it.

Down to her underwear now, she paused and smoothed her hand over her stomach. The dreams she’d had about Much, though shameful, had become anticipated. She rested one hand against the wall next to her closet door and closed her eyes as she slipped her fingers under the waistband of her underwear. She imagined Much standing behind her, pressing against her back so she could feel the smooth lines of his body and the concave lines of his hips. In her mind it became his hand touching her, his middle finger teasing her labia.

In her fantasy she turned around and kissed him, forcing him back toward the bed, pushing him down and climbing on top of him before she could get a solid visual of his body. Lips and tongues at play as she straddled his waist. He was fully clothed, the secrets of his gender safely hidden away as she reached between them to push her underwear out of the way. She would find his hand and he would guide her to the zip of his trousers.

Still standing against the wall, head bowed and two fingers stroking between her legs, she whispered, “Forgive me.” She didn’t know if she was invoking the deity she no longer fully believed in or Much for taking advantage of him even in a fantasy. She thought there was a chance she was apologizing to herself for what she was doing. Whatever her reasoning and however twisted it was, she found her clit and quickly brought an end to her shameful self-love. She removed her hand from her underwear and brushed it on the nearest cloth, recoiling when she realized it was the clerical blouse the others had gotten for her to wear.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and this time she knew that she was speaking to the body of religion, that unquantifiable belief that kept so many people going for so many centuries. She closed her eyes and tightened her hand around the cloth, hanging her head as she dealt with her conflicting emotions. No matter how strongly she desired Much, no matter how invasive the fantasies had become, she would never allow herself the sin of acting upon it. 

She dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt with a faded logo on the front. She looked at herself in the mirror as she let her hair down, threading it through her fingers so it lay on her shoulders. She was still feeling the aftereffects of her orgasm and tried to ignore the sensations as she combed her hair out. She’d never been with a man, and she wasn’t going to break a lifelong vow of celibacy by succumbing to her baser urges. Much was the only person in her everyday life that even vaguely resembled a man, so her primal attentions were focused on him. That was all it amounted to. She didn’t think about all the men she’d known Before, the boys who had unbuttoned her pants only to angrily drive her home when she asked them to stop.

She had managed to resist every one of them. Surely she would be able to survive her current infatuation until the day it inevitably faded to a distant and unwelcome memory. Until then she would always have her hand, and her nightly confessional whispered to an empty sky. She turned away from the mirror and went to bed, planning to rest until it was time for dinner. She prayed there wouldn’t be any dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

The woman Marian called Nasir didn’t like or appreciate her assigned name. She was born Sameya Reza and would have preferred to keep that name, but Marian insisted that they have something to bind them together. She was given the name Nasir because that character, a very late addition to the Robin Hood canon, happened to be Muslim. When Marian wasn’t around she asked that she be called Sam. Most of the gang abided by her wishes, Red Jill among them. That respect was one reason Sam didn’t mind joining her on the recon mission.

They moved quickly and silently across the rooftops, stepping carefully to avoid disturbing anyone’s property. The edges of each building had been raised and reinforced to protect from weather and accidental falls, with ornate bridges constructed to join one formerly independent building to its neighbor. Some buildings attempted to turn the connecting lines into toll roads, but members of Marian’s group were granted free access due to everything they’d done for the community.

Sam waited until they had some distance between them and the base before she spoke. “You had no way of knowing the codes had been changed. They’re changed in an irregular pattern specifically so we can’t get ahead of them. You’re blaming yourself, Marian is blaming herself, but the true villain is the government and its men. They’ve turned food into a commodity, a privilege extended only to a select few. They’ve turned people into criminals for being hungry. If you want to be angry, be angry at them.”

Jill was silent for a while after that but eventually she said, “Thank you, Sam.”

They were nearly to the wreckage site so they fell silent and kept their eyes open for sentries. The street had been blocked off with yellow tape and armored guardsmen posted in pairs every few feet. A second tank had been brought in, and workers were currently moving parcels from the wrecked vehicle to the new one. Jill climbed a fire escape to get a better vantage point, stretching out on her stomach and peering over the edge to the scene below. Sam joined her and watched as more food was transferred to the new truck.

“We won’t be able to see the code from up here.”

“I’m not planning to,” Jill said. “Doors are standing wide open.”

Sam looked at her to see if she was joking, but there was no trace of humor around her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“You’ll be dead period. The two of us don’t stand a chance against a force that size. We’d be killed without hesitation.”

“Only if they see us.”

“You figured out how to turn invisible?”

Jill’s smile was truly alarming Sam. “No. But I have the next best thing. Come on. Hurry.” She pushed herself up and moved to the edge of the roof. Sam reluctantly followed. 

“I will not take part in any plan I do not know the details of. Explain yourself.”

Jill paused at the fire escape. “The security codes protect the trucks from unauthorized entry. There’s nothing to prevent an unauthorized exit.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re certifiably insane!”

“That’s what makes me good. Come on.”

Sam followed her down to street level. Sam had brought her bag of tricks and, once they were in the alley, Jill grabbed one of the homeless urchins that seemed to always be within arm’s reach in this part of the city. She crouched so that she was on his level and showed him the handful of small brass balls she’d taken from Sam.

“See these things? They’re sparklers. They’ll make a lot of noise if you smack them on the ground hard enough. If you get some of your friends to go two blocks that way, and if you break as many of these as you can three minutes from now, I’ll make sure you get rewarded with the biggest dinner you’ve had in weeks.”

The kid eagerly complied and filled his shoulder bag with the sparklers. Jill and Sam took positions as close to the street as possible while remaining in the shadows. “When the sparklers draw their attention, we make a run for the new transport trunk. We go up and we get in without being seen.”

“And then what?”

“Then we continue with the plan as it was before. We’ll have the hatch open, we’ll just transfer everything out.”

Sam said, “A large part of the plan involved me being on a rooftop to extract you. This can’t be done with only two people.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist. There’s enough of that in the world already. Besides, can you imagine the look on their faces when they try to figure out how we pulled this off?”

Sam said, “And that will only make their security tighter next time. Are you prepared for that?”

“Can’t prepare. Only respond.” She winked and patted Sam’s arm. “Just move swiftly and keep your head down as much as possible.”

“Thank you. I was planning to run out with my arms raised over my head.”

Jill glared back at her, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Just be ready to run on my cue.”

Neither of them had watches, but Sam kept a count in her head. Once it reached one-eighty, she braced herself for the sound of sparklers going off in the distance. When it finally came, the dull and repetitive pops of concussive explosions muffled by the surrounding architecture, Jill held up a hand to keep Sam from rushing out before it was time. The guards responded to the noise and seemed to flow toward it as a single entity. Jill swung her hand forward and dropped into a crouch so deep that her knees nearly bumped her chest with every step. The truck’s hatch was standing open, and several packets of food had been dropped between it and the wreckage.

Jill reluctantly stepped over the forgotten food and clambered onto the bumper as quietly as she could. Sam was right behind her, and Jill offered her hand to help her up. The guards were shouting orders to one another, rough voices that bounced off the boarded-over windows and crumbling brick facades of the valley they were in. Jill dropped her feet into the hatch and sunk into the darkness. Sam looked up to check the position of the guards before she followed.

The cargo hold of the truck was narrow and almost completely full of food packets. Jill moved stealthily along the central aisle and Sam followed. They found a nook, a small square of negative space that hadn’t been taken, and wormed their way in. They stood back to front, with Sam spooning against Jill’s back since she was taller. Sam put her arms around Jill’s waist and held her tight, willing them smaller and invisible by hunching her shoulders and turning slightly toward the back wall.

After a few minutes the guards returned. Their footsteps echoed on top of the armored truck, their voices muffled. Despite that, Sam could hear they were griping about “dumb kids” with nothing better to do than cause a ruckus. The packets started falling again, one of the guards coming down into the cargo hold in order to stack them neatly against the sides of the truck. Sam kept perfectly still, her knees locked and her arms so tight around Jill’s waist she knew that she had to be crushing the petite thief. 

Every moment, every breath, Sam was certain they would be discovered. But the guard was too focused on finishing his task as quickly as possible that he never once looked toward the back of the hold. Sam watched the smooth dome of his helmet as he looked up and patiently waited for the next packet. Soon enough, he reached up and grabbed the handles to haul himself up and out. The hatch was lowered, and they heard the chimes of the security code being entered. 

They stayed in their nook until the truck lurched forward, large tires growling over broken asphalt on the way to the next depot. Jill slipped out of Sam’s arms and moved back into the aisle. She reached under her tunic for her knife. Sam had a palm-mounted light that she used to illuminate the path and reveal the identifiers on the side of each pallet. 

Jill sighed and faced her with a proud smile. “Well? What do you want to pack up first?”  



	5. Chapter 5

It was nearly dinner, Jill and Nasir were still unaccounted for, and I was still sitting vigil over the wounded woman I’d brought back. Prioress came to check on the patient and also brought me a small plate of food. Macaroni with cut-up hot dogs in it, one of Dawn’s specialties. Nothing extraordinary but still more than I felt justified eating, so I left it on the table as she checked the woman’s vitals. When she was finished she turned to me, looked at the untouched plate, and sighed.

“You have to eat, Marian.”

“So does she. I’ll eat when she does.”

“That’s not a reasonable argument.” She raised a finger. “And anticipating your next deflection, it won’t do any good to deny yourself food until we have enough for everyone in the neighborhood.” She picked up the plate and moved it closer to me. “Eat. We can afford to lose one delivery, but we can’t afford to lose you. I shudder to think where some of us might have ended up if it wasn’t for you, so I won’t sit here and watch you starve yourself like some kind of martyr.”

I sighed and picked up the plate. My intention was to shovel a few mouthfuls in just to satisfy her nagging, but once I started eating I felt ravenous. I kept my eyes on the plate so I wouldn’t see her smug look of victory. She stood up and promised to bring me back a glass of milk as she left the room. I slowed down my eating so the meal would last longer, and I watched the patient sleep. I wondered who she was, what errand we’d interrupted with our theatrics. She was young, gorgeous, brunette... her eyebrows were arched in a way that implied a strict seriousness, but her lips seemed designed for doling out devastating smiles.

She was dressed smartly for the streets; a white linen shirt under a leather vest, pants with a lot of pockets to carry her tools and whatever spoils she might find. Prioress and I had both gone through them but found nothing to identify her. Driver’s licenses weren’t exactly the first thing most people grabbed on their way out of the house these days. 

I was staring at the woman so intently that I didn’t notice when she opened her eyes. I was startled when I focused on her face again and discovered she was staring at me with small, dark brown eyes. I sat up a little straighter, looked toward the door in the hopes Prioress had returned, then looked at the woman again. She was still lying flat, but she had shifted her gaze from me to scan the room we were in. She seemed dazed so I kept my voice quiet when I spoke.

“Hi. How are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure. Where am I?”

“You’re in a safe place. You were hurt on the street, so we brought you back here to keep you from being hurt.”

She started to sit up and opened her lips wide in a soundless cry of pain. She dropped back down and looked at her wrist.

“Sorry. Um, we have a doctor. She’ll be here in just a second.” I moved closer and crouched next to her. “I’m Marian. What’s your name?”

She looked away from her wrist, looked around the room quickly again, and then focused on me. “I... I was kind of hoping you could tell me. I thought it was just waking up in a strange place, but I don’t... I-I don’t remember...” She rubbed her injured wrist with the other hand. “I’m not sure about anything. I wasn’t even sure if I was supposed to know who you are.”

Prioress came back with a glass of milk. “Oh. Well, look who is awake.”

“She just woke up,” I said. “She doesn’t remember her name.”

“Oh. That’s not a good thing, is it?” Prioress knelt next to the couch and began examining the patient. I backed up and watched, arms crossed. The girl seemed on the verge of terror, constantly looking away or trailing off her sentences to look around the room as if she was waiting for something familiar to jump out at her. 

“You were on Bourne Street, between Pine and Eighth. Does that sound familiar to you at all?”

She shook her head slowly. “Everything is hazy. I remember... a few things, but nothing concrete. Yellow blankets. A curtain.” A line appeared between her eyebrows and she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t try to force it,” Prioress said. “You suffered a trauma. Sometimes the brain just needs a little extra time to reboot.”

“In the meantime, you can stay here until we figure out where you belong. We just served dinner if you’d like a plate. It’s not going to be very much...”

“Whatever you have would be wonderful. Thank you. I’m starving.”

Prioress nodded. “I’ll go fix you something. Marian, will you stay with her?”

“Sure.” She left, and I sat on the edge of the coffee table. “I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around her knees and shrugged. “It’s not your fault I can’t remember anything.”

“It actually might be. Indirectly, at least. I was trying to rob a truck, it lost control, and there was a crash. You were lying on the sidewalk. So I assume you got caught up in the damage.”

“Rob a truck? Are you... like bank robbers?”

I smiled at the quaint notion and shook my head. “No. The government runs transports through here. The people who can afford it get everything while the ones who really need it get screwed. We swoop in and make sure it gets distributed a little more evenly.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand. Why is food... I mean, food is a necessity, right?”

I stared at her for a moment to see if she was simply being obtuse, but it seemed as if her memory really had been wiped clean. Prioress returned with a plate and I looked at her, conveying my concern before I looked back at our guest.

“When I said you were found on Bourne Street, what does that mean to you?”

“Nothing. I don’t remember any Bourne Street. Everything is confusing.” She closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I wish I could remember.”

Prioress said, “What’s wrong?”

I wet my lips. “I don’t think she remembers... anything. The last two decades.”

“No, that’s not possible.” Prioress sat the plate down and pulled a chair closer. “Do you know where you went to school? If you went to college, what kind of job you had?”

“No.” Her voice had become tiny, and she hugged herself tighter. “What’s wrong? What am I obviously not remembering that’s making you look at me like that?”

I sighed and looked down at my feet. “Things have been bad for a very long time. You look like you’re about... thirty?” She shrugged and shook her head and I realized it was ridiculous to ask her. “When we were little girls... well. Prioress? You were a little older than we were when it all happened.”

“I was twenty,” Prioress said. “The details would only confuse you, but... there were wars, escalating violence, and people protested. Social media went haywire in opposition, so the people who wanted the wars decided the only way to shut people up was to destroy the internet.” She smiled ruefully. “It was a lot easier than people used to think. The internet is still there, but all the gateways were buried. After that things went downhill quickly. People thought if the government could silence us, then what would they do next?” She sighed. “Meanwhile the wars were still being waged. People started trying to defend themselves the only way they knew how. We didn’t have wars here at home; we just had skirmishes. They were usually more violent than all-out war would have been.”

The girl shook her head. “Why can’t I remember that? How can I have forgotten?”

“You were young,” I said. “Like I was. Your parents may have shielded you.”

Prioress said, “Whatever the reason, we went from a global community to people who only trusted what we could see. We only protected what was in arm’s reach. Walls went up, cities went silent to outsiders, and the government started trekking around in tanks driven by people in full body armor. And then people like Marian came along and started trying to help.”

The girl was staring at her hands. I saw a tear drop from her cheek and she sniffled before speaking. “If everything you say really happened, then I never really had the chance to know the world. I don’t even remember anything. How can I miss it?”

“I miss it because I heard about it in stories my mother told,” I said. “Maybe you’re remembering something like that.”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything.”

I got up and sat next to her on the couch. She leaned into me, and I put my arm around her, looking at Prioress.

“There’s no rush. You’re safe here until you remember where you belong.”

“I don’t even know my name.”

I smiled. “Well... that’s where you’re in luck. See, in this group we use pseudonyms. It’s to protect ourselves in case we get captured during one of our outings. I’m Marian Hude, that’s Prioress Tuck, and I can give you a name to use until your memory comes back.”

“What would my name be?”

“How do you feel about Robin?”


	6. Chapter 6

Little Dawn closed and locked the door to her private rooms, the temperature different instantly so great that she started sweating immediately. She was eleven when everything went to hell, and her parents took her down into the basement of their apartment building for safety while they went out to find food. It was the dead of winter and she’d bundled herself up in all the blankets she could find while she waited for them to return. She heard sirens over the next few days, and she felt relief when they finally stopped. She smelled smoke but didn’t benefit from the warmth of any actual flames. Still she stayed, because her parents had never failed to come back for her in the past. 

She was eventually rescued by a group of scavengers, tough teenage boys whom she had no doubt would have seen her much differently if she’d been just a little older. As it was, she became the little sister of their group. They took her somewhere warm and, sitting in front of the flames as feeling returned to her extremities, she swore she would never be cold again. Even if she was drenched in sweat, she would up the heat just a little more to keep the chilblains away. 

Her rescuers, her Brothers, taught her how to fight and defend herself. When she was old enough for them to see her sexually, the boy who approached her did so respectfully. They flirted a little and danced around the subject before she finally invited him into her bedroom to stay the night. She cried when he entered her, determined to finish the act but also desperate for it to be over. Afterward she had no doubt that her interest was with women.

When she turned twenty she began looking for her own niche in the world. She felt strong enough to break away from her Brothers. The group had become far too violent in the years after their leader was killed by a constable and, despite pressures from the old guard to take over in his place, Dawn wanted to find her own place in the world. She started looking for someone she trusted and believed in. She found it in a scrappy strawberry blonde in a leather jacket, the collar popped up under the waves of her curls, a porcelain doll face with sparking blue eyes that spoke of hardship and survival. 

Their paths had crossed when two of the Brothers caught Marian handing out food in their territory. She’d been wearing a hood and a veil over the lower half of her face, but the men had pulled those away and tossed them aside. Fortunately one of Dawn’s brothers had been present and talked the younger members out of their original plan to use their foundling as a party favor. Dawn, at that time going by her birth name, was summoned and discovered the men holding Marian in the farthest corner of an underground parking garage. Dawn had looked at the scattered packets of food, met Marian’s eye, and then asked for an update.

“Caught her sneaking around in our territory with enough supplies to feed an army. Figure she’s been stealing from people.” The man who’d spoken was holding Marian’s right arm, and he gave it a vicious twist. “We were going to show her what we do to thieves in these parts.”

Dawn glanced at Robin’s slender waist, the laces of her vest pulled tight enough that the material was pinched at the sides. Her cheeks were hollow; it was an attractive look on her, but not one that was often seen on somebody who was hoarding food for herself.

“Who is the food for? Your kids?”

Marian said, “Whoever needs it. I wasn’t taking it, I was handing it out.” She tensed and tried to pull her arm free, but the Brothers held tight. “It’s what I do. I raid the tanks and get as much as I can, then I find the people who need it.”

Dawn narrowed her eyes. “Is your name Hood?”

“It’s pronounced Hewed,” Marian said. “Marian Hude.”

“Let her go,” Dawn said.

The Brother looked at her and furrowed his brow. “You’re just going to take her word for it? Hood doesn’t exist. It’s a legend.”

“Apparently not.” Dawn stepped forward and pushed one of the packages with her toe. “Look at these packets. Notice anything about them?” He looked down, then shrugged and shook his head. “They’re all in plain brown wrappers. They’re packaged n the same uniform manner. If she robbed multiple homes, there would be some kind of variety. They’d be torn open, used. This food isn’t pantry food. It’s storehouse food. Now I’ll repeat myself once, but after that we’ll have words. Let her go.”

The men reluctantly released Marian’s arms. The more vocal one did so with enough force that Marian stumbled forward. She refused to answer with violence, merely tugging on her sleeve as she stepped out of arm’s reach. The men glared resentfully at her back as she bent down to gather her scattered supplies. Dawn crouched to help her as an apology for what she’d been through.

Dawn had just parted her lips to vocally apologize when she heard one of the men muttered, “Oughta just teach both of ‘em a lesson... make things a whole lot easier around here.”

She looked up and pinpointed the man who had spoken. She stood, brushed her hands on her thighs, and walked up to him. He met her gaze with challenge in his eyes, and she knew that if she didn’t confront his comment now she would be forced to later. She didn’t break stride as she got close, she simply brought up her fist and drove it into the man’s nose. He careened back, but Dawn grabbed his shirt with her other hand to prevent his fall. He came back forward and her fist cracked his nose again. This time blood plumed across his upper lip and fanned across his cheeks like feathered wings.

She dropped the man to the ground and turned to face the others. “Anyone else think I need to be taught a lesson?” No one spoke so she held her hands out. “I’m entertaining the idea if anyone wants to step forward to educate me. Do it now or keep your damn mouths shut.”

The bluster and bravado had seeped out of the men, and Dawn motioned for one of them to help his bleeding friend. Marian had watched the entire thing without a word, and she looked away as Dawn came back to her. They finished gathering the spilled supplies, which were returned to Marian’s pack, and Dawn handed it back to her by the strap. “Do you know how to get back out of here?”

“I’d probably find it eventually.”

Dawn motioned for her to follow. To the men, she said, “Get back topside and do something useful with yourselves.”

They walked up the gentle slope of the outbound ramp. Dawn took out a palm-sized flashlight and switched it on to light the path in front of them. 

“This used to all be open to the sun, but someone bricked it up to make it more defensible.”

“More like to turn it into a death trap.” Marian looked back to make sure they weren’t being followed. “Nice group you have there.”

Dawn shrugged. “They saved my life. I felt like I owed it to them to keep things going when their leader died.”

“You heard what that guy said. It’s only a matter of time before they move beyond talking.”

“I’m well aware.”

Marian put a hand on Dawn’s arm and stepped in front of her. “If you need somewhere to go, I have a group. You’re a good leader, so I’d make sure you weren’t just a foot soldier, but you’d still be part of a larger group. We steal what we can, keep what we absolutely need, and give away what’s left. If you can get behind that mission statement, we’d be lucky to have someone like you. You’d have a safe place to sleep. A place of your own.”

Dawn considered the proposition. “Place of my own...” She pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. “How warm would it be?”

Now she stood stripped to her underwear in front of the open oven, eyes closed as the heat opened her pores. When it was cold outside she sometimes had to deal with the other girls in the group usurping her territory. She didn’t mind company from time to time, and she also didn’t mind the opportunity to see women like Jill and Sam working up a sweat in their skivvies. But with summer looming she had the kitchen and its nearby environs all to herself. She bundled her thick black hair on top of her head, brushed the sweat from her throat, and flicked the droplets into the oven. It sizzled when it landed on the hot surface, and she smiled as she spun on the ball of her left foot to walk back to her bed.

She lay down with the pillow behind her, arm outstretched for a book, when there was a knock on the door. She didn’t bother covering up before she asked who it was.

“It’s Much.”

Dawn propped herself up. “You can come in.”

The door opened and Much stepped inside, exhaling sharply at the temperature difference before he realized Dawn was wearing only a thin pair of panties. He shifted as if he wanted to leave the room, reached up to scratch near his collar, and finally just pushed the door shut so no one else would wander in. Dawn smiled at the display of anxiety and brought her knees up, resting her arm across them to appease his modesty a little bit.

“Hey, Much. What’s up?”

“Jill told me that you provided the hot dogs at dinner tonight. I just wanted to say thank you. I really like that meal, always since I was a little kid. So, um. I wanted to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s one of my favorites, too.” She patted the mattress. “Come here. Sit down for a while.”

“Oh, no, it’s... you’re getting ready for bed. And it’s so hot.”

“So take off some of your clothes.”

Much’s face was already red from the heat, but Dawn could have sworn he blushed even deeper. “I don’t know about that.”

“Come here, Much.” He crossed the room and took a seat near her feet. She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. He tensed and looked down at his feet. “I know how you feel about me...”

“And I know how you feel about men.” He gently moved her hand from his shoulder and looked at her. “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do, and I hope you won’t ask me to be something I’m not.”

Dawn shook her head. “Not at all. But the way I see it, I’m against penetration. I don’t want that anywhere near me. So if you wanted to just lie down here next to me, we could kiss a little bit and let our hands do all the hard work.” She leaned closer, going slowly enough that Much could pull away if he wanted. Their lips brushed softly together, but Dawn didn’t let herself get overly excited; they had gotten this far before and Much had called it off. This time when their lips touched, Much leaned into it. Dawn slid closer and put her hand on the back of Much’s head. 

They kissed, with Much slowly and carefully rearranging himself on the bed to have better access to Dawn’s body. He started to push Dawn down, arousal getting the better of her, but Dawn stopped her and ended the kiss.

“This ends when you say it ends. You don’t owe me anything beyond what we’ve already done. You decide when we stop.” She kissed the corners of Much’s mouth. “I appreciate that you won’t do something I don’t want. You deserve the same consideration.” She slid her hand down the smooth front of Much’s shirt, imagining the bindings underneath, the lean lines of his abdomen leading down to his flared hips. Then what was lurking underneath...

“Thank you,” Much whispered. He kissed Dawn again, moaning as their tongues met. “Actually there is something you can do...”

“Name it.”

“Can we turn the heat down a little? I feel... I feel lightheaded.” He grinned sheepishly. “I know it might not be entirely from the temperature, but...”

Dawn nodded. “Yeah. We can turn it down.” She stroked Much’s arms. “But you have to promise to keep me warm as long as you’re here.”

Much licked the sweat from his upper lip, eyes drifting down to Dawn’s naked breasts. “I think I can do that.”

Dawn lowered her hands to let Much get up, watching as he crossed the room to turn off the oven. The heat seemed to immediately dissipate, instantly overwhelmed by the ambient temperature in the rest of their house. She sat up and pushed her hand through her hair as Much walked back toward the bed. Dawn offered her hand, and Much’s palm felt smooth and cool against hers as she pulled him down. She knew the room would quickly cool off, but she was now even more confident that Much would make up the difference just fine.


	7. Chapter 7

Alana Dale had applied her makeup almost twelve hours earlier, and it was beginning to fade by the time they finished eating. She had spent the day with Dawn running around delivering packages, and the afternoon was spent in the cramped storeroom trying to get an idea of how much food exactly they had left. They usually had a surplus and the precise measurements didn’t matter, but now losing a single bag of rice could have dire consequences. 

Marian and Prioress Tuck were in the common room with the stranger, Much and Dawn had disappeared, and Jill was still out with Nasir trying to get intel on the tanks. Alana hoped they would be able to come up with something soon. She rarely had much of an appetite so she didn’t mind a little personal rationing. She was more worried about some of the people she left care packages for. It was so hard for her to just drop off the pre-packed baggie when she saw some of those kids, and it took everything not to just hand over everything she was carrying. 

She was in one of their side rooms, a wide space that had once made up one family’s entire apartment. Now it was a place where they could congregate, share ideas, listen to stories, or plan attacks. Currently Alana was the only one present, her guitar resting heavy against her stomach and her legs hanging over the arm of the sofa. Sometimes she sang for the other women, but more often than not she preferred to play only for herself.

Her newest songs, her personal songs, didn’t have any lyrics, but she heard stories under the notes. The story of a girl who straddled the line between being famous for her off-stage antics as she was for what she did on her albums. She did drugs, she did anyone with a pulse, and she ignored that inconvenient thing called sleep as often as possible. How could she sleep when there were parties to attend and people to fuck? 

The end came on a tour bus, parked at the New York state line. Her manager went out to talk to the police blocking the road to find out why they were being denied access. She had a huge concert in twenty-four hours. She had stayed on the bus barely aware of anything going on outside, only half conscious that there was a delay. She and a few members of her band were playing a game of strip poker and she was losing. She had just shimmied out of her jeans and struck a pose when the front windshield of the bus shattered.

Her fingers struck a harsh chord as she remembered, the song becoming manic in its energy. Her manager screaming at the driver to get the bus out of there, his voice cut off mid-sentence with a horrific, fleshy sound. Then there were men on the bus. She strummed harder, her lips a tight line as she watched her fingers move across the frets, nodding her head in time to the soundtrack. Men in armor, not police, rushing onto her bus. Them knocking her to the ground. Her friend and drummer being hit so hard that he was knocked out.

Her voice, meek and trembling more than it ever had, a promise. An exchange of services in order for her friends to be released without harm. She was taken into the back of the bus where the militia took their turns taking their piece of the deal. Some of them weren’t so bad. Others were nightmares. She was taken in every way imaginable and, when they were done, they walked out and tagged in the next man. She didn’t know how many there were in total... but there were enough.

Finally, their number was exhausted. The bus was allowed to turn around and go back the way it had come, but they were missing a few people whose bodies were left behind at the roadblock. Her bass player came in and tended to her, weeping the entire time without saying a word. Finally she stretched out on the bed, and Alana had hugged her.

“What just happened?” the guitar player whispered.

“Nothing ‘just’ happened,” Alana had replied. “This has been coming for a long time.”

Over the next few months, the band tried to find some safe harbor to ride out the badness. As it became clearer that the badness wasn’t going anywhere, they attempted to outrun it. But it had spread across the country, maybe even the world, like a bad plague. One by one, her friends either wandered away to other groups or became yet another casualty. Alana’s fame had opened many doors, and more than a few times she had ended up on her back to fulfill her end of a deal. Her body was the only currency they had left.

When they reached the town she now called home, it was only her and her driver. They were starving, and they’d heard tale of a group that provided food to anyone in need. Alana had arranged the meeting. She met Marian Hude and Little Dawn in a tavern near the edge of town. Alana explained what they needed before offering what she had to give in return.

“I can fuck you, or her. Or both of you together. You can do whatever you like to me, or have me do whatever you desire.” By now the words were rote, offered without shame or emotion.

Marian hadn’t even flinched. “That won’t be necessary. If you need food, you’ll get it. There’s no need to debase yourself for it.”

“It’s the only thing I have to offer.”

“I’m sure if you looked hard enough, you’d find something else.”

Alana scoffed. “Not exactly a lot of time for soul-searching on the road.”

Marian shrugged. “What if you had a safe place where you could make the time?”

She stopped the song there, distracted by movement in the doorway. Jill and Nasir were back, and Nasir stopped in the doorway to motion Alana to follow them. She put aside her guitar and hurried to catch up with the ladies. She could see from the heavy packs they wore that their recon had been extremely successful. They arrived in the main room where Marian and Prioress were speaking to the stranger in low tones, but they cut off their conversation when they saw the new arrivals. Marian stood up and looked at them with a hopeful expression.

Alana took the opportunity to examine the new arrival, whom she hadn’t seen yet. She had small cuts on her fingertips and peculiar black bruises on her thumbs. When she realized Alana was looking she looked herself, saw the marks as if for the first time, and tucked her hands into the sleeves of her blouse. 

“You seem to have a tale to tell,” Marian said, her voice betraying her excitement. “We should all hear it together. Alana, have you seen Little Dawn?”

“I think she went to bed.”

Prioress said, “I’ll fetch her. Much is probably in the kitchen on dish duty. I’ll grab him as well.”

Alana was grateful for that. Dawn was grumpy in the best of times, but if she was woken - even for good news - the person bearing the news bore the brunt of her irritation. Alana stepped forward and offered to help Red Jill take off her pack so they could begin cataloguing and storing the food. Marian helped Nasir out of her pack as well.

“I’m sure you have a great story about how you managed this.”

Nasir and Jill shared a smile, and Nasir said, “One for the ages.”

“I can’t wait to hear it.”


	8. Chapter 8

The hallway leading to Dawn’s room was twisted and dark, and Prioress had to tuck her hand against her stomach so the vaguely diaphanous fabric didn’t get caught on anything as she passed. She smiled, relieved and feeling something akin to her old religious faith at Jill and Nasir’s revelation. Faced with famine and hardships, they had been absolved and saved because they never lost their faith. Not their faith in any gods or the big-G God. They never lost their faith in one another, and that loyalty had been rewarded.

So was so swelled with joy over the good news that she entered Dawn’s room without knocking. The first thing she saw was Much reclining nude on the bed, his chest wrapped in bindings and a flesh-tone undergarment holding a large phallus in place between his legs. Dawn’s legs were spread on either side of him, one hand stroking the length of his shaft while the other worked rapidly between his legs. Dawn was kissing Much’s neck when Prioress interrupted, but she lifted her head and cast an irritated glare her way.

“I am... so sorry.” Prioress retreated from the stifling heat of Dawn’s room, blaming the temperature for the flush in her cheeks. Her upper lip and forehead were beaded with sweat, and she cupped her hand over the lower half of her face to keep from making any audible reaction to what she’d just witnessed. She felt ashamed for her anger, humiliated at playing witness, and embarrassed about her anger at the sight. 

She knew she would never have acted on her feelings for Much. He deserved to be with someone who would act on their feelings. Much deserved to have love.

Prioress wiped at her eyes, adding self-anger for her childish reaction, and smoothed down the front of her blouse. She lightly rapped her knuckles against the door and struggled to keep her voice steady when she spoke.

“We’ve gotten a bit of good news. Marian will want to see us all... wh-when you have a moment, of course.” She stepped away from the door and hustled away, hoping that distance would help her achieve amnesia.

#

Red Jill and Nasir explained how they had gotten into the tank, prompting Marian to call them reckless fools who would be kicked out of the group if they ever did anything so idiotic ever again. But she said it with a smile, and she privately congratulated both of them for keeping the pantry stocked for another month. Jill offered to help itemize and inventory everything but the group agreed she had done enough for the cause. She and Nasir were given an extra portion for their meal and sent off to relax for the rest of the night. Before they left, Marian grabbed Jill’s hand.

“Seriously good work this evening. You did the group proud.”

Jill, embarrassed by all the praise, simply nodded and slipped away with her reward. The Prioress was oddly quiet during the entire conversation. Marian expected her to offer assistance with the bounty, but instead she left the room as quickly as she could without being rude. Much and Dawn were also late, both shiny with sweat from spending too long in Dawn’s part of the warren. 

In the end, Marian dismissed the women to enjoy their night and set about taking care of the work herself. If the Prioress had been there she would have claimed it was penance for her earlier mistakes. She was grateful she didn’t have to defend herself, even if it meant doing the work without help.

Their storeroom had once been the kitchen of a three-bedroom apartment. Her mind wandered as she filled the cupboards with food packets. How many dinners had been prepared on the counters? How many arguments had echoed off the appliances before she and Dawn took them out to make room for more storage? It had been so much simpler back then, but of course no one appreciated it. No one even noticed how perfect it was until it was all gone.

Marian didn’t know how long the stranger, Robin, had been standing in the doorway watching her. She turned to take something out of the bag and was startled to realize she wasn’t alone. Robin was startled as well, and took a step back.

“I’m sorry. Am I not allowed in here?”

“No, that’s fine. Would you like something to eat?”

Robin shook her head. “This is for other people, isn’t it? People who need help.”

“In case you forgot, you’re one of those people.”

“I suppose I am. But I don’t need anything right now.” She picked up one of the packets and looked at the cupboard Marian had been filling. “This is very sloppy.”

Marian grinned. “Yeah. We just started stacking things without much thought to... you know, sustaining it. So it’s kind of a crapshoot. Fortunately the people who need our help aren’t exactly picky.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Robin said softly. She approached the cabinet and reached up to take something out, but she drew her hand back at the last second. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’m being presumptuous.”

“No, please. If you think you can help organize this mess...”

Robin began taking packets out of the cupboard, stacking them on the counter in front of her. She examined each wrapper, quickly creating five separate stacks. Marian crossed her arms over her chest and watched as Robin instinctively emptied out the cupboard and then, almost as if a switch had been flipped, began putting things back in a different order.

“Each packet has an expiration date on the side...”

“Those are really more like guidelines.”

Robin nodded. “Regardless, the packets with the shortest shelf life should be stacked near the front so they get handed out earlier. Less chance of something going to waste. Then each shelf is a separate type of meal. Beef, fish, chicken, vegetarian.” She frowned. “I’m surprised there’s a vegetarian option. Like you said, beggars and choosers...”

“That will be very helpful. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I can help. I can do the rest of the storeroom and create a directory so your ladies can readily find whatever they need.”

Marian said, “I... wow. That would be helpful. But that’s a huge job. We can’t ask you to do that.”

“I know I have memory issues, but I don’t remember you asking.” She smiled and turned away. “I was unconscious and helpless on the street. I was injured. I may not have a clear grasp on who I am or where I was coming from, but the idea of being left out there terrifies me on a primal level. You saved my life. The least I can do is spend a few hours rearranging your kitchen. I seem to be good at it. And doing this is the first time I’ve felt relaxed since I woke up.”

“Well,” Marian said, “if you insist, I suppose I can’t stop you. Make that list you mentioned. When it’s ready, you can give it to the Prioress and she’ll make sure we all get a copy. And thank you very much, Robin.”

“You’re welcome.”

Marian stepped back and watched the woman work. She moved with confidence and surety, never slowing down or fumbling. Whoever she was, it was obvious to Marian that the woman was extraordinarily organized.

Robin managed to fill one cabinet in no time flat, moving on to the next one in the line. As she was emptying it, Alana slipped into the room and touched Marian’s arm.

“Got a minute?”

“Everything okay?”

“Borderline.” Alana looked at Robin, then leaned closer and lowered her voice. “The Prioress is distressed. She’s angry and sad and trying to pretend she’s neither. She’s fighting some very powerful emotions.”

Marian frowned. “Why would she be angry? Earlier, I could understand, but... we just got a nice surplus. We’re good to go.”

“Well.” Alana cleared her throat and bit her bottom lip. “There’s a rumor.”

“I don’t like rumors very much.”

Alana shrugged. “It’s all I have. But... earlier, when you announced we’d gotten the surplus back? Nasir was standing next to Dawn and said she smelled like sex. And I noticed that Much’s trousers were... ah.” She cleared her throat, looked at Robin, and then gestured over the crotch of her own pants. “There was moisture.”

Marian’s eyes widened and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Dawn and Much were intimate?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Damn,” Marian whispered. She knew the Prioress was harboring feelings for Much, but she also knew that whatever dredges of belief she still had kept her from acting on those urges. “I guess I need to talk to her. Where is she?”

“She went out onto the fire escape for some fresh air.” Alana watched Robin for a moment. “What in the world is she doing?”

“Organizing. Want to help her?”

Alana shrugged. “Could you use some help, stranger?”

“Thank you, yes. If you could remove the items from the cupboard before I reach them, it would save me the time.”

Alana nodded. “Sure thing.”

“And I would prefer if you didn’t call me stranger.” She met Marian’s eye. “I think I’d like to be called Robin.”

Marian returned her smile and left them with their chore, heading for the fire escape to seek out their jilted clergywoman.


End file.
